Death Note: Diary of a Shinigami
by TTY7
Summary: Everyone has the right to choose their own path. It is part of basic human rights. However, sometimes the path a person wants to follow isn't the right one and sometimes the path that must be walked is chosen for them. When the games of war begin, who will stand at the end? Who will thrive and who will die? AU
1. The Girl

A/N: Okay...don't throw tomatoes at me...please. To those who read my other stories and are waiting for updates on them, please don't hurt me. I'm sorry. Truly, I didn't mean for this to happen again, but...I can't help it. Once new ideas pop into my head, I have to write them down and post them on the internet. I realize that I have ten other stories that are incomplete and should probably be focusing on them but...the inspiration for them isn't there right now, so onto the next best thing. A fanfic for Death Note, my newest anime obsession.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Death Note.

Warnings: This is my first time writing for Death Note, so go easy on me if you choose to review. Also, this story will eventually crossover with Bleach a little bit. (None of the Bleach characters will appear or anything like that, but some concepts from Bleach will be introduced. As time goes on, you'll understand why I've decided on doing this, but the main focus is in the Death Note world, so that's why I didn't list this story as a crossover. So don't even worry about it right now.) One other warning. Updates may be a little slow. Let's just warn everyone ahead of time.

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Chapter 1

The Girl

She was adopted into a good family.

"Good" is a word that could hold many meanings in the above statement. The word can translate into the family being rich, or a family with a great deal of prestige, or perhaps power. In this context, the word could also mean that this family held incredibly high moral standards, or had a strong sense of justice. If applied to the typical definition of "good" then the people within this family could be called agreeable, commendable, super-efficient, first-class citizens that lived by the law of the land and went about their daily lives without trouble or complaint.

This couldn't be farther from the truth for this family, at least in the typical sense.

That's why Kira killed them.

That's why the girl stood alone in the small living room of her apartment, staring wide-eyed at the bodies of her adoptive family on the television screen.

The father, Yotaru Makano was a well-known fugitive who had escaped from prison nearly fifteen years ago. He was convicted on a murder charge despite having a perfectly sound alibi and no motive to kill the victim, thus resulting on a sentence of a life in prison. Before that time, Yotaru Makano had been a prominent business man named Nenji Sumodou, a well-respected, kind gentleman who had just graduated from a prominent university in America. Oddly enough, he was in America when the crime was instigated...in Okinawa, Japan where he was born.

Someone had obviously framed the man, and the alibi wasn't seen as a sound one, since it was given by a distant relative. Talk about bad luck.

The justice system had failed miserably on that account, landing an innocent man in prison while the killer continued to kill other innocent people, offhandedly finding a way to frame someone else with the evidence. It was an amazing feat really, one that Yotaru Makano resented and respected all at the same time.

He spent three years rotting in a prison cell, surviving through the day-to-day struggles of prison life while calculating his eventual escape to freedom. After all, the justice system wasn't going to help him. How could it? The so-called justice system is what brought him to this point in the first place.

How he escaped is something straight out of Shashank Redemption, a film he had seen in his youth and had ironically taken inspiration from to execute his own brilliant escape from prison despite the odds stacked up against him. He changed his name and appearance, moved to Winchester England and made a new life for himself. This included marrying a woman named Olivia Kay.

Olivia was a teacher at St. Mary, College of Winchester, and like Yotaru, a fugitive. Though not accused of murder like her husband, her conviction consisted of hacking into a military base in connection to a failed terrorist operation in Russia a few years earlier. She also changed her name and appearance. Originally, her name was Rosalie Anniston.

Two years after they married,.Oliva gave birth to her one and only biological child, David Makano. He was a rowdy boy, and as he grew he became a rowdy young man. At the age of ten he had already robbed a couple of convenient stores despite the continuous chidings he received from his parents when he got caught.

When David was ten, Yotaru and Oliva decided to adopt a child since the two of them could no longer produce children of their own.

Their original intention had been to adopt a baby from the Wammy House, but upon meeting a little girl with bright sea green eyes, curly locks of chestnut-brown hair, and a wide smile that was brighter than a million suns. They made plans to adopt her on the spot.

That's not to say that the girl didn't have some strange tendencies though. For one, she always carried around what appeared to be a diary hidden within a pink binder covered in animal stickers. Sometimes she would stare off into space, seemingly talking to someone but the space was always empty. She was a cashew fanatic too for some reason. She ate them constantly along with a variety of other nuts like almonds, peanuts, and walnuts, (if she could get someone to smash the thick shell open), though primarily she ate cashews. Every day she had to have at least three cans filled with salted cashews or some other type of nut. If she didn't, severe withdrawal symptoms would come into play. David would later find a way to make sure the girl suffered through these withdrawal symptoms as often as possible.

Aside from this she was a perfectly normal girl with some perfectly abnormal attachments to the orphanage.

While the adoption proceedings were taking place, she wouldn't stop crying for Yotaru and Oliva to adopt all the other kids. In particular she wailed endlessly for a slightly older boy with unruly bluish-black hair and soulless looking eyes lined with heavy bags, screaming exhaustion and the copious amounts of caffeine and sugar the kid was consuming. He continuously walked barefoot in a slouched over position and sat with his knees pressed against his chest for no clear reason. The young girl imitated some of his actions, giggling at him while claiming that the boy was a little weird but still very special to her. She was dead sent against leaving unless Yotaru and Oliva adopted him as well. David didn't have a problem with this, he even started begging his parents adopt the other child. He seemed cool enough to him and he needed a good punching bag anyhow.

However, this other child refused, stating that he belonged at the orphanage and couldn't leave before his training was complete.

The little girl protested, but eventually she was forced to go along with the separation.

On the day of departure she cried, clinging to her friend, begging him to come along anyway. He smiled, but didn't return the embrace, saying that they would meet again and that she shouldn't cry needlessly. There would be better reasons for tears, none of them including him.

At the time, the girl thoroughly disagreed.

However, nearly ten years later, she's beginning to understand what he meant.

At the age of seventeen, an age where the realities of life and death have begun to set in, she knows that the world is filled with rotten people, that hope may as well be a meaningless fiction for the uneducated. She knows she should feel bitterness, hatred, fear and most of all, the desire to end it all.

But she can't.

Though she stares at the lifeless eyes of her loved ones, she can't bring herself to feel any of those things. As she stands, trembling in disbelief, she can only register the emotion of sadness, of emptiness.

She would never claim that her adoptive family were good people in the typical sense. Her father wasn't a murderer, but he had run away. He didn't fight against the conviction or try to go about clearing his name legally from inside prison. Appeals were possible after all, but he never went that route. Instead he took matters into his own hands and ran, further convincing others of his guilt.

Her mother was someone who had assassinated people in the past and had continued to do so despite being a teacher. Even when the family moved back to a year earlier Japan, she continued to carry out missions from different mafia groups. After all, it was one of the few ways they could earn money.

Eventually her brother turned to the darkness as well. He ended up becoming a drug dealer to help the family make more money. Having fugitive parents meant moving around after so many months of being in one place. Big money was required for such a feat, especially with a son who spends needlessly.

Unfortunately, David got caught up in a deal that ended up in a horrendous gang-war recently. As a result, Oliva was forced to use her old mafia connections to try to clean up the mess he made. Much to the detriment of the entire family, Olivia was too hasty and made mistakes that caused the police to track her down, rendering her alias useless in the process. After interrogations and torture, Oliva spilled the beans about her life, including her marriage choice. Yotaru was caught in the same net thanks to this. His alias was also rendered useless. The media released the real names of her family: Nenji Sumodou, Rosalie Ansiton-Sumodou, and David Sumodou.

The girl was surrounded by this, but she never committed a crime, leaving the police no choice but to leave her be when they took all of her family into custody. For years on end she had lived a life separate from her family, at least in that sense. She went to school, studied, and traveled along with her family when it was time to move on to somewhere new. Though they were criminals, they were good people in her mind. They were sympathetic, helpful, strong, and willing to do anything to protect her. Though adopted, she was the baby of the family and the one that was shielded from reality the most.

But reality found other ways in.

Truthfully, she had hidden a secret for a while.

One that changed the very nature of the scene she was staring at now.

It was her fault. She knew this without a doubt, yet she still wanted to blame Kira. More than anything she wanted to find a way to kill him. No, better than that, she wanted to kill someone he loved so he could feel what she was feeling now.

But once again, she couldn't bring herself to act on these feelings. That's the reason why all of this began.

All because she could never accept her fate. All because she couldn't accept the ugly truth of what she truly was deep inside.

She hated herself for that.

But she hated Kira more for taking advantage of her weakness. Still, even with that hate beginning to brew inside her, she couldn't bring herself to feel much of anything, except deep sorrow and regret.

Sorrow for relinquishing her powers...

Regret for loving the hideous creatures humans were...

Sorrow in knowing that the countless deaths in the last month were her fault...

Regret in knowing she'd put those events into motion...

Sorrow for turning her back to her reflection...

Regret for wishing...

For hoping...

For being...

A shinigami living in human skin.

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A/N: And that's the first chapter. More of a test run than anything else right now. If you guys are interested in reading more, let me know in that review box. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on this first chapter because, like I said this is my first time writing for Death Note and I'm introducing an OC that apparently doesn't have a name right now...uh oh, this already screams disaster. Oh well, thanks for reading and stay tuned for chapter two! I promise it'll be longer than this.


	2. David and the Light

A/N: And now we bring about the second chapter, which I promise is more interesting and intricate than the first. So, now we take you back in time, to a month before the first chapter. I hope all of you will enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Death Note.

Warnings: This is my first time writing for Death Note so please go easy on me if you choose to review.

Chapter 2

David and the Light

One month earlier

7:23 a.m.

"Aaaaah! Not again! DAVID!"

David Makano let out a content sigh as his adoptive sister's shouts carried down the stairs of the apartment. Slyly grinning he placed the porcelain white coffee mug he was sipping tea out of down on the chestnut wooden table he was sitting at. Crossing his feet at the ankle, he inclined his gaze toward the stairway, listening for the relentless pounding of his younger sister's feet as she came rushing down the stairs, most likely with her metal brush in hand, threatening to pound him with it for his latest attempt to prank her.

He laughed softly to himself, thinking that this particular attempt was his most ingenious yet. There was absolutely no way for her to escape from it this time. For once, he would get the upper hand.

"DAVID!"

Chuckling a bit more loudly he took another sip of his tea, closing his eyes as he answered, "Yes..."

His voice trailed off when he felt the distinct sensation of a gooey substance being poured onto his head of dirty blonde hair. He cringed upon noting that the gooey substance had made its path down his face, dripping on the table, and staining the wood in a black color he hoped he wouldn't see when he opened his amber-colored eyes. More than that he hoped the sound of that same substance dripping into his tea was just his overactive imagination. If it wasn't, his morning was officially ruined.

"There," came his sister's somewhat cheerful voice, though it lacked its usual warmth. "Be sure to tell me how much fun you have getting that motor oil out of your hair. I imagine it'll be difficult."

David let out a sigh, opening one of his eyes to gaze at the girl next to him. Though irritated that his, "motor oil in the shampoo bottle scheme," failed miserably, he was more concerned with the uncharacteristic blank stare she was sporting. Almost instantly his countenance of mild irritation slipped into concern for the girl as she sat down in the chair next to him. In the same motion she poured the rest of the motor oil shampoo into his tea before snatching the uneaten toast that was resting on a plate nearby, thankfully untouched by the oil. He scowled again. This was definitely a bad sign that she had shifted into one of her "moods."

He figured he should try to distract her from whatever was going on in her head. "Aww, how did you figure it out sis?"

The girl took a bite of the toast, unceremoniously shifting her position in the chair so she was sitting with her knees tucked toward her chest. "Did you take the time to read the label on the shampoo?" she began, talking and chewing at the same time. "It reads, tantalizing peppermint chocolate. If you had taken the time to read the label you'd know that I always take a minute to smell the shampoo before using it in my hair. It reminds me of him."

David fought the urge to roll his eyes. "_So she's thinking about him again, eh? Good grief, you'd think after ten years she'd give it a rest..._"

"Anyway brother, since I take the time to smell my shampoo almost every morning," she continued, cutting into his thoughts, "I've memorized the exact scent." She took another bite of the toast. "Of course, with how strong motor oil smells, I didn't need to check the shampoo bottle to know you had tampered with it. I could smell the stuff the second I opened the bathroom door."

David groaned, rising up from the table to get a dishcloth to wipe his face with. "You always have an answer for everything, don't you?" Sighing he opened the drawer near the kitchen sink. After taking a moment to wipe his face he tilted his gaze toward the window, staring out at the clouds as they rolled by. "So, what excuse are you going to give the teachers for being late again?"

The girl shrugged. "Simple." Barely smiling she peered over at her brother. "I'll tell them you put motor oil in my shampoo and that it took me an extra hour to get ready this morning because of it."

"Don't you think you're pushing it a little with the hour thing?" David asked, turning on the faucet.

The girl shook her head after a few seconds of contemplation, carefully analyzing him as he wiped his face with the wet rag. "Nope. It's the truth. Because you put motor oil in my shampoo, I had to spend an hour typing in all the codes to the safe in my room where I keep my reserve stash of shampoo and other things." With a slight sigh she added, "It's a very extensive process."

"I don't doubt it."

The smile on her face faded, falling into a sad frown. "David..."

He could tell from the tone where this conversation was headed. "Don't start...this isn't the best time to..."

"What you've done is wrong David," she cut in, keeping her expression and tone of voice as neutral as possible. Even her eyes, those sea green eyes normally so full of childish innocence, were now laden with a type of maturity more befitting of a woman nearing her eighties and not a girl who had just turned seventeen a few weeks earlier.

Sometimes it amazed David, how fast her moods could shift, how fast she could switch between being one person and another.

He often wondered if she had a split personality...

One brought about because of _him..._

And _his_ ideals of justice.

Such ideals were a bother to David now. In the past he appreciated the naivety of his sister and the friend she had been influenced by during her years at the orphanage, but at this point in his life...

"What kind of future can you gain from this lifestyle?"

David didn't answer, instead he turned the faucet on again, hoping to drown out the sound of her voice.

For the last few years he had worked his way up the drug cartel with their mother assisting him when she could, mostly when it came to keeping it all secret from his father. He was the same as his sister in many ways despite the lack of biological connection. His ideals were bound on the belief that justice would always prevail. It seemed like a hypocritical view in David's eyes, especially when his father had run away from prison after being convicted of murder. He didn't try to appeal the conviction, even knowing that it was false, because he was disappointed by the fact the system placed him in jail for no reason. As a result he ignored his chances to leave prison legally and instead busted out, instantly placing a price on his head.

David couldn't believe in what society called "justice" after learning the story of how his parents met. Most police weren't concerned about justice, but money. All that's needed is a face to go along with the crime, a made-up motive, and corrupted evidence. For these reasons, David didn't believe in the police, or in systems. The people running them were hypocritical, money grubbing liars who couldn't begin to understand what it meant to survive in the harsh world everyone else lived in.

Idealistic idiots...that's all they were to him.

But his sister was a big supporter of the police, no, more like she was a supporter of detectives. She was a big fan of Sherlock Holmes, having read all the books, and had seen every movie or television program to date about the series. She said it was another thing that reminded her of her friend and the orphanage.

Her deductive reasoning wasn't quite on par with the friend who held precedence in so many of her thoughts, but she was still brilliant. She hardly ever attended classes, but she studied relentlessly and passed each test with perfect scores unless fatigued or going through a cashew withdraws. In the latter case, David usually got a good laugh out of it since it was the only thing that broke her cheerful mask of composure. Though too easy to satisfy him, stealing and hiding the cans of cashews was the only prank that worked on the girl.

But in the tense silence that followed her words, he knew there'd be no chance for laughter. He could feel it in her gaze and in how she spoke to him.

Tossing the wet rag into the sink he let out the breath he'd been holding. "You say the word "future" as if it really means something, but tell me...what is the future?"

No answer.

"The future holds the seconds that make up the next moment in time," David continued, narrowing his gaze on the clouds outside. "The future can be as little as one second from now, so tell me sis," he turned to face her, a sad look in his amber eyes, "What can one hope for in a single second?"

Her gaze didn't waver. "Do you want a vague or specific answer?"

David scoffed in annoyance. "Specifics would be great..."

"Very well then. Let me present a scenario for you," she cut in for perhaps the tenth time that morning. "It's two in the morning. You're out in the street, running for you life because a greedy mad-man who holds more power and resources than your little mafia gang is after you. You were both armed, but in trying to defend yourself you've run out of bullets. Having never been in such a situation, your aim is off, but his is not. Let's add in that you've been shot multiple times in different areas on your body, none that are life threatening but enough to hinder movement, decreasing the speed of your sprint ten-fold . You're bleeding profusely, stumbling down different alleyways, trying to escape from him before coming to a dead-end."

David stiffened, seeing the situation clearly in his head. "What's your point?"

"The point is for you to answer a question for me," she answered, almost as if she were talking to an especially slow child. "Tell me, what would you want to happen?"

"I'd hope to escape..."

"Exactly." She peered at him with a slight glare reflected in her aqua colored eyes. "Your hope for the future would be to escape, to live. If you thought escape was impossible and knew you were going to die, I'm certain you'd wish you could tell me and our parents that you love us. Maybe you'd still hope for a miracle, for someone to save you from your demise. And if in theory, the future is nothing more but a few seconds ahead in time, then I'd say your wishes fill up those time slots, wouldn't you?"

David blinked in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It means that the future is hope David," she stated bluntly, her eyes like a blazing fire now. "Without hope there's nothing to look forward to. Without hope there's no point in walking ahead. In hindsight my dear brother, without hope there is no future, regardless of time." Unfolding her legs she rises up from the table, reaching for her school bag as she moves toward the door. "Hope is the future and the future is hope. One cannot exist without the other. So, I suppose I should rephrase my question from earlier." With a final glare she asks, "What is it that you hope to gain in the end?"

The young man didn't answer, only stared down at his shaking hands.

The girl opened the door. "You should think about that before going off to sell drugs again." Glancing back she added, "By the way, tell Mom and Dad I'll be home a little late tonight. Most likely I'll have detention for being tardy to class again." Without another word she slammed it shut behind her, walking leisurely down the long hallway toward the elevator.

Back inside the apartment, David unclenched his hands, willing the shaking to stop.

His sister was right he knew, but he was in too deep now. There was no turning back, not anymore.

And he had the sinking feeling that what he couldn't turn back from was the vivid scenario his sister painted in his mind.

* * *

"Ms. Makano, that's the tenth time this month." Mr. Tomoshi held out a small piece of paper, a detention slip just as she expected. After all, this particular teacher loves singling her out, making her out as more of a weirdo than the other students already perceived her to be, not that the girl really cared in the end. She wasn't all that interested in making friends in this place. She'd love to have more of them, but in the end she realizes that she operates best on her own.

Though normally armed with a cheerful disposition, the girl was definitely off-setting to others in terms of her intellect as well as some of the general creepy aura that seemed to surround her despite the usually sunny attitude. Of course today, the poor girl is sporting the doom and gloom look, giving the students around her the clue that she better be left alone for the time being. In other words, today was not a good day for teasing, homework copying, or kiss-up worshiping. No, she definitely wasn't in the mood for any of those today.

And to make matters worse, the teacher immediately demanded she'd go to the principal's office, shouting, "I've had enough of your tardiness Ms. Makano! Having perfect scores will not excuse you!"

She really wasn't in the mood for this.

With eerie calmness she pointed in a diagonal angle behind her. "Sir, not to be rude, but wasn't Mr. Yagami late yesterday? I don't see you making a fuss about him and he makes perfect grades too."

The entire class gasped, but the girl wasn't paying attention to that, she simply kept pointing at one Light Yagami without even glancing back to see his expression. It didn't matter to her anyway, he was just a face of a student in most of her classes. Nothing more, nothing less.

If she had looked back, she would have noticed Light's eyebrow rise just a touch, barely hinting at his irritation for the antics of the strange girl who didn't have the sense to ever be on time. At one time he may have seen her as his rival, but after her displays of continuous tardiness, he saw no point in regarding her as such. Aside from perfect grades, the girl was a total spazz and just plain weird.

"One tardy is excusable Ms. Makano but you've been tardy nearly every day for the four months you've attended this school," Mr. Tomoshi stated angrily. "In all honesty it's because of your grades that you haven't been suspended for multiple offenses."

The girl tilted her head of chestnut curls in inquiry. "Mr. Tomoshi, this is philosophy class, correct?"

Mr. Tomoshi, with his receding hair-line and beady eyes simply blinked in confusion. "Yes, it is..."

"And yesterday we, as a class, were speaking on the terms of justice and fairness, right?"

"Yes..."

"Then please explain why a student such as myself gets pardon simply for having better grades than another student." Placing her hands on her hips she added, "I fail to see how that's fair. Furthermore, the fact that you haven't punished me severely and didn't give Mr. Yagami detention yesterday because of our perfect grades is an obstruction of justice." With an added flair of finality she rolled her eyes. "Sorry if these statements come across rudely sir, but that's simple logic. You can't really call yourself a professor of philosophy if you can't understand something as simple as the rules of fairness."

Some of the other students snickered.

Mr. Tomoshi's face turned beet red in response to this. "MS. MAKANO!"

Said student just breathed out a sigh. "Must you yell? I can hear you just fine Mr. Tomoshi. After all, I'm standing right in front of you..."

"WHY YOU LITTLE..."

"Mr. Tomoshi."

The girl didn't turn around, but she knew whose voice that was. Mentally she sighed again.

"I hate to say this, but I'm afraid Ms. Makano is correct," Light Yagami stated, that ever diplomatic air present in his voice as he spoke. "It is unfair for the two of us to receive special treatment just because of our grades. We're all students here so we all have to abide by the same rules. I've noticed that for most of the students, a tardy is almost always an automatic detention for the day. However, for students with higher grades, more chances are given out to correct their behavior..." he trailed off for a second, a smirk barely tugging at the corners of his lips, "thus the reason Ms. Makano has been able to abuse those chances until now."

She only shrugged, not bothering to look back at Light. "It was rather convenient while it lasted, but I can't in good conscience keep allowing you to pardon me simply because of my intellect. Rules are rules teach."

Mr. Tomoshi looked absolutely livid. "Fine then...both of you can go to the principal's office then and both of you can request detention for the week."

The girl shrugged again, already gathering up her things from the top of her desk. "Fine by me. I've got nothing better to do after school."

Light didn't look fazed by the predicament either. "My apologies Mr. Tomoshi. Maybe I can reform Ms. Makano during our time in detention."

"Sorry Yagami, but you'd have an easier time training a seal how to belly dance."

For one reason or another the classroom erupted with laughter. Ms. Makano wasn't sure if it was because of the vivid imagery of the metaphor, or that she said it without any trace of her usual sunny bravado, or if it was the uncharacteristic deadpanned expression that simultaneously surfaced on Light Yagami's handsome face. Whatever the case, she didn't really care.

Though most likely, it was Light's reaction that caused the busting of the guts in that classroom.

Once out in the hall, the girl stretched her arms above her head, yawning in slight boredom. Now seemed like a good time to start with the bravado again. She hated brooding and acting like a sarcastic know it all, but waking up on the wrong side of the bed does things to people.

One: Unwanted thoughts creep into the subconscious as the person regains conciousness

Two: A sense of dread for having to get out of bed surfaces.

Three: The general idea of "life sucks" enters the brain.

Four: All a person really wants is to slip back into the abyss of a dreamless sleep.

Five: All of the above makes for a bad mood which makes for a worse day.

And as an added bonus, she didn't sleep for a long time the night before. She'd been up for most of it actually, pacing the floor for no reason, wondering why she had this foreboding sense of dread lingering in her chest. It almost felt like indigestion honestly, but with the added bonus of a cold sweat that just wouldn't go away.

Easy to say that the five things listed above are therefore doubled because of this added fact.

Then there was the disagreement with her brother this morning...she honestly didn't want to think about it. Dealing with him on any level was frustrating these days. His stubbornness was her most formidable foe.

"Training a seal how to belly dance, huh?" Light suddenly asked, breaking into her line of thought. "Colorful imagery."

"I guess," was the answer she gave him. She'd forgotten that they were going to the principal's office together. "The chances of you reforming me are actually slimmer though."

"Is that so?"

"Yep." Glancing back she added, "To reform something there has to be something wrong with it." In the next second she broke out a giant smile. "And there's nothing wrong with me."

Light stared down at her, seemingly charmed by her antics, but deep down he was thinking that if there was nothing wrong with her, there was nothing _right _with her either.

For one thing, her curly chestnut locks were an awful mess of tangles, she had a pimple right on the apple of her right cheek, light bags under her eyes, (clearly from staying up all night, hyped up on some type of drug because there's no other way she could be so absurdly lively every single day aside from withdrawal moments, which she obviously had to be suffering from today), her posture, (when sitting anyway) was absolutely atrocious, and worst of all her...

Light honestly didn't want to think about it, but his mind had to go _there_. May his male hormones be cursed for all eternity for betraying him in this way, but worst of all, the thing he detested most about this girl was the absolute perfection of her bust area.

Light Yagami was never the type to focus on the women around him or care for their emotions concerning him. Most women were too frivolous, too stupid, or too fan-girlish to hold his interest, causing him to feel no attraction whatsoever, even if they were quote on quote "drop dead gorgeous". With girls literally throwing themselves at him, (something most guys his age would be happy about), Light was _running away_ _from_ and not _chasing after_ women. At this point in his life, he's not interested in women or the overly complicated emotions that caused them to throw out all reason and sanity.

While he loved them dearly, dealing with his mother and sister alone was enough to stall him from dating one of his devoted fan-girls.

But this girl was the polar opposite of most girls he knew to an extent. Sure she was clumsy, too cheerful at times, completely tomboyish yet obnoxiously girly when it came to certain things, and the sound of her voice aggravated him half the time. Unfortunately, she happened to be brilliant (like him), hold a strong sense of justice, (like him), levelheaded in any and all arguments (like him), fairly attractive, (mainly due to what he rather not think about), and above all else, she was just as bored with life as he was...

Well...to an extent since her personality seems to change with the day. Truthfully, his reluctant attraction toward this girl flipped flopped like her emotions tended to do. He was almost certain that she was either bi-polar or had split-personalities. The second choice seemed more likely, but he could never be sure and on most occasions he didn't think about it.

"Cashews?"

Light shook himself from his thoughts, blinking at the small can of cashews she held out to him as they continued to walk down the hall with a wide smile on her face.

With her personality flip-flopping the way it does, Light mentally concluded that she must be nuts...if the cashew addiction was any indicator.

"No thank you."

"Suit yourself." Throwing her head back she tossed half the contents of the can into her mouth. For half a second Light worried she might start choking from the sheer amount she poured into her mouth, but he held on to his composure as she heartily chewed the snack, her smile widening even more as she swallowed.

"Aaaah, nothing like salty cashews in the morning!"

Light kept silent, mentally shaking his head in disappointment. "_I could never consider her as a rival. The boredom continues then..._"

"Hey, Light-chan."

The young Yagami's brain suddenly came to a screeching halt. Strangely enough, he could seriously almost hear the sound of tires scratching across the pavement in his head.

The girl in front of him continued down the hall, completely oblivious to the state she'd left her companion in.

"_What did she just call me?_" He mentally screamed, before picking up the pace a bit so he was walking directly behind her. "Excuse me, Ms. Makano, isn't that too informal...and the wrong honorific? We're not exactly friends..."

"Eh, oh, that doesn't matter Light-chan," she replied, not bating an eye as the two of them approached the door to the principal's office. "Yagami-kun or Mr. Yagami just sounds a little too blah for me. I'd rather call people by their first name anyway. I wasn't born in Japan, so simply calling people by their last name...it feels a little cold, don't you think?"

Light didn't allow his curiosity to surface at the news of finding out she was actually a foreigner, instead he said, "You've lived here long enough to know the customs, correct? You speak perfect Japanese."

"And I've heard you speak perfect English in class Light-chan," she answered. "It doesn't mean you know the customs of the English any more than I know the customs of the Japanese. It just means that we know the language."

Light had to fight to keep himself from screaming in aggravation. "Ms. Makano, please stop calling me that. It's rude."

"Rude is genuine." She stopped at the door, smirking at him. "I don't like to be fake, even though it's a necessary evil most of the time."

Light smirked falsely at her, the statement ringing in his mind as he opened the door for her. Though intrigued, he decided it was time to ditch her.

Without waiting for a response from the office staff when they entered the room, Light called out, (in a perfectly polite inside voice), "Excuse me. My humblest apologies for being a bother, but Mr. Tomoshi requested that I escort Ms. Makano here to the principal's office. I believe they need to discuss her pending suspension."

The girl began to protest but Light stopped her, saying, "Now, now Ms. Makano, you know the rules. Being tardy ten times within a single month are a cause for suspension, or a month's worth of detention."

She tried speaking again, but Light stopped her once more, gently pushing her toward the principal's personal office door as he stepped out to open his door. With Light being the straight A, perfect student he was, the entire office staff believed his little lie and never questioned whether Mr. Tomoshi had also dubbed for him to be sentenced to the same fate as Ms. Makano.

"_Good acting_," was all she could think as he waved, turning away from her with an almost devilish smirk on his face. "Sorry for your predicament Crystal. I hope to see you in class tomorrow if you haven't been suspended."

Sea green eyes narrowed on the retreating figure. "_Superb acting. I only wish I could pull that off_."

The principal sat down in his seat, folding his aging hands together so he could rest his chin atop them. "So Ms. Makano, I hear you've been tardy quite a bit this month."

Crystal Makano, the adoptive daughter of Yotaru and Olivia Makano sighed heavily in response. "_I hope telling him about the shampoo incident will work out in my favor._ _If it doesn't, I'm beating David up with my brush when I get back this evening._"

* * *

A/N: And that's the second chapter everyone. So, what did you all think? Mainly, did I depict Light okay? (I did just finish the anime, so his character is still fresh on my mind, but you never know, I could have messed up somewhere.) Anyway, thanks for reading and please continue to read. The next chapter will start the major conflict and from there, well, who knows what will happen.


	3. The Notebook

A/N: And here's the next chapter, which introduces the main twist I plan to throw in. I hope you enjoy it. And special thanks to those who have reviewed so far. I definitely appreciate it! I hope you guys will enjoy this chapter too.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Death Note.

Warnings: This is AU...somewhat...and in this chapter a what-if scenario is going to be introduced. Also this is my first time writing for Death Note so...if you see anything that's a little off, feel free to let me know. Constructive criticism is welcome. (That way I can do better in the future.) Thanks.

Chapter 3

The Notebook

A few hours later

11:59 a.m.

The bell rang, signifying the beginning of the lunch hour just as Crystal Makano stepped out of the principal's office. He had been lenient with her, though most students would call hour-long detention periods before and after school for the next two months cruel and unusual punishment that inhumanely cut into a persons sleep and precious social life. It may as well be an in-school suspension. Those had been common in the school Crystal went to when she lived in America last year.

The halls of Daikoku Private Academy are a lot grander than the schools she's gone to in the past. Back in those days, money was really hard to come by and public schooling was the only available option for the girl and her brother before he dropped out a few years ago. If Crystal thought dropping out would do anything productive, she would have followed in her brother's footsteps. Attending classes felt endlessly tiresome, especially when she slipped into one of her "moods". Everything in her world feels too simple sometimes, far too easy.

Things were different when she lived in Winchester.

Shaking her head, Crystal moves at a steady pace down the hall, trying to smile despite the dark feelings of nostalgia creeping in. Last night was one of those nights where resting was out of the question. Instead, memories of old friends and rivals plagued her every thought. Most of the time she could keep her mind from drifting in those directions, primarily to keep herself from feeling lonely since no one in recent years could really understand her.

Last night was different.

For a reason she couldn't discern (an unsettling matter in itself), Crystal thought back on her memories of the Wammy House Orphanage with a cold shudder. A dreadful sense of terror took hold of the young woman, forcing her to pace back and forth in her room as she tried to make sense of what was wrong and why her emotions were tumbling in directions they shouldn't have gone in. Instead of thinking fondly on the laughs she exchanged with the children who were more or less similar to her, the images haunted her and caused her heart to flutter dangerously in apprehension.

When thinking of L, her dearest friend from those times, Crystal's heart took an involuntary dive into the pits of her stomach.

Those bothersome feelings stay with her as the day continues on, making it impossible to live out this ordinary day like she normally would. Normally she could smile from her heart, even if nothing good was happening around her. She could laugh at jokes that weren't funny, could ignore the odd stares directed at her on a daily basis, and pretend that she didn't hear their voices when they talked about her, making statements that she's either bi-polar, has some other personality disorder, or is hyped up on drugs half the time.

Entering the cafeteria she notices the slight hush that falls over the large room. Normally some of her acquaintances would run up to her, ranting and raving about the latest fashion craze or asking for her help on homework. Crystal could usually go along with their antics, could immerse herself in what they talked about without needing to make any special effort.

The one thing that had always kept her happy or at least somewhat sane was the one thing that had stopped her from being able to become one of L's successors, aside from being adopted of course.

Distractions.

It's not that she's easily distracted, more that she craves distractions when the problems of her family life and other troubling things tumble into her awareness which was, unfortunately, a daily occurence due to the skills ingrained in her brain. As a child, she hated watching the news, but she watched anyway because of L's and the other children's fascination with crimes. With L being as brilliant as he is, he solved some of those broadcasted crimes within minutes.

Crystal watched, but she had hated doing so. She didn't want to believe that the people of the Earth were nothing more than greedy scum. It sickened her to even debate the possibility, so after a while she stopped watching the news with the other children and stopped helping on the small cases that allowed the beginnings of L's reputation as the world's greatest detective at the tender age of nine.

Granted, Crystal still read her Sherlock Holmes novels, but the crimes depicted were works of fiction. They couldn't possibly be grounded in reality, right?

The answer to that question wasn't something Crystal ever thought about. She loved the world she lived in and she loved the people in her life. She believed full-heartedly that all of them were good people deep down, every one of them...except maybe...

Crystal stopped the thoughts cold as she sat down in the corner of the cafeteria alone. Having kept her backpack on her person without placing some of its contents in her locker like normal, her bento box was already inside. Sighing, she retrieved the bento and placed it on the table with great care.

A hint of a fond smile crept onto her face when her fingers gently opened the bento that had been carefully prepared by her father. Rice-balls and sushi stared back at her, the essential chopsticks resting next to the food along with a small container containing extra cashews.

She ate without really tasting the food, instead savoring the imagined visions of her father preparing the bento and placing it in her backpack before going to work at the downtown market. His mother and David saw it as a meager job, one that couldn't begin to pay the enormous amounts of debt the family seemed to always be in despite his meticulous budgeting.

Crystal ended up cringing as she placed a california roll in her mouth, once again eating without really tasting. She hated the fact that her mother and brother were continuously deceiving the honest man wrongly convicted of murder. She hated keeping their actions secret from him, but it was for the best. Though Crystal commended her adoptive father for wanting to make an honest living, she realized that his wages along with the wages her mother made from her teaching job at the elementary school simply weren't enough to sustain the way they were forced to live. Travel expenses and credit card debts from fake identities in America were slowly catching up to them and if they weren't paid off soon, the government would intervene. It wouldn't take much time for them to figure out that they were fugitives.

Thus the reason David was so immersed in the drug world.

Once he had asked her to help him make the money they needed by becoming his right hand-man or woman rather. Her deductive skills were skills desperately needed by him, skills that could make the difference between life and death for him, and if he wasn't careful, the entire family.

She refused.

There was careful consideration involved and a part of her wanted to help him, knowing that if she joined his side they could rule the drug cartel. It'd be effortless for her, like breathing in and out every second of every day. The situation was becoming desperate to the point where her mother had started pleading with her, placing all desires to shield her adoptive daughter from harm aside.

The temptation was great. She loved her adoptive family and she knew they loved her. Albeit the kind of love her brother and mother held for her these days was a twisted sort. Her mother wanted to use her as a tool to maintain the hectic lifestyle of moving from place to place all over the world. After taking her away from the orphanage and spending ten years taking care of her and treating her like she was her own, she wanted a bit of payback. Crystal didn't begrudge her for it. The feeling was only natural, given the type of work her mother had involved herself with in the past.

David was another story entirely.

His love for her was different from a typical brother-sister relationship. For years she forced herself to ignore these differences, but recently the task had become impossible. He had always been obsessed with playing pranks on her, rattling her, trying to get under her skin in some way other than stealing her precious cashews. He wanted something more tangible and meaningful to hold over her head, to use as leverage so she would feel compelled to submit to him. David was someone who craved control since many things in his life...in their lives...were completely left in the air.

The Makano family drifted like the wind. They moved place to place without making any indentations to the world.

Crystal knew he once saw her as the living reflection of the instability he had lived with all his life, a living symbol of how he would never truly be able to impact the world.

It was a stupid conclusion for him to make in her opinion.

But with time, he discovered that he could break past her mask. He realized it when she reluctantly confronted him about his immersion in the drug world the very first time, two years before they moved to Japan.

She remembers that cold winter evening in Paris being one of the darkest she had ever seen, frigid rain pouring over her as she stood at the edge of a disserted cobblestone street, watching her adoptive brother somberly as he screamed at an older man with bloodshot eyes and a bag of Cocaine in his left hand. His words are words Crystal forced herself to forget.

However, she can't bring herself to forget the malice in his amber eyes or the desperation that screamed he was going to do something he'd regret.

Even knowing this, Crystal didn't move. Her sole purpose for being out on the streets to begin with was to find him. She had discovered long before that moment that David was making, selling, and using a variety of drugs. The signs were obvious, but she had forced herself to ignore her gut feelings until she simply couldn't take it anymore. Worry won out and she followed him...

Only to witness his first murder.

And after seeing her brother shoot the man once...twice...thrice, she sunk to her knees and cried.

Her gut told her what her next course of action needed to be. Her insticts told her to run, to report the crime she had witnessed to the police, and make sure justice was won for the poor addict because no one deserved such a cruel and meaningless death.

At the same time, she cried because she knew she couldn't do what she had always seen her childhood friend do...objectively distribute justice.

She cried so bitterly and loudly that David had to place his bloodied hands over her mouth and guide her away from the scene, whispering calmly in her ear with only the slightest hints of remorse, not for what he had done, but because she had seen it.

His words caused Crystal to cry even harder, shattering the masks she had worn in front of him and everyone else.

Crystal concluded that his actions and her response to them changed how he viewed her. Until that point he had resented her because of her refusal to let anyone see the cracks in her cheerful façade...

No one except L.

And it had been years since she'd seen him by then. Something had to give.

Still, after that night, she knew she could no longer ignore the instability in David's mind.

He would never dare make advances towards her, having some semblance of morality left even though he chose to continue down the road driven by the love of money; the root of all things evil. However, Crystal could see that David didn't love her only as a sister after that night. When her masks crumbled in front of him in the flickering light of the street lamp hovering into the lonely street, he fell in love with her.

Rather, he fell in love with her weakness.

She didn't bother to hide that weakness for a while and instead used it to her advantage, hoping her pleading would get through his thick skull. Sometimes he caved because he loved watching her masks of cheerfulness crumble before his eyes. It was something tangible Crystal knew he thought he could control and manipulate to his will, but it didn't satisfy him for long. Eventually he figured out that her begging and pleading had become a tool, another mask for her to hide behind.

It wasn't that he didn't care about her feelings or that he didn't think she was right to assume that the road he walked on would only end in his death. In the end, Crystal was aware that David was simply addicted to the adrenaline rush brought from the blood money and he wasn't going to stop for anything.

He only promised he would never kill again. To the extent of Crystal's knowledge, he has kept this oath. Still, Crystal couldn't be sure of how long he could keep it. Besides, there are ways to kill that never require the dirtying of hands.

She knew all too well.

Yet she was still tempted to throw aside what she knew to be right to help her family raise the money needed to keep them afloat. After all, her deductive skills and ability to take on different personas weren't the only weapons at her disposal.

Having lost her appetite, Crystal packed up the remaining food back into the bento box, closed it, and placed it back into her backpack before rising from the table. Checking the clock on the opposite side of the room, she noted there was still thirty minutes before her next class.

Needing some fresh air, the young woman decided she'd head for the roof of the building.

As she walked, she contemplated that the greatest temptation in giving into David's requests for help within the drug cartel had been knowing the repercussions of what would happen if the government caught up with them through the money trail.

Her adoptive father, convicted of murder, would probably end up on death row.

Just thinking about it made Crystal's heart sink. How anyone could seriously believe that her father, Yotaru Makano, was a merciless, cold, killer was something she would never be able to understand. He was too compassionate, too gracious, and far too naïve to fit the persona.

At some point, every person alive has masked their true nature, her father included, but even knowing that, Crystal knew without a doubt that her father was innocent. She knew before she investigated the murder he was convicted of, before she learned the name and face of the true killer, the man who had thrown her father's life in a tailspin.

Taking revenge against him would have been effortless, just as taking control of the drug cartel would have been.

The last time David asked Crystal to help him was when she came to this conclusion...

The most vile of crimes are the ones committed effortlessly.

And so, with more firmness than the other times, Crystal refused to help him or succumb to her temptations.

She realized that day that there will always be people in the world who are viewed as scum, but in hindsight, aren't the people viewing hypocrites? Who gave them the right to judge others when they were probably just as flawed in different areas of their own lives?

He who is without sin cast the first stone.

Unlike her closest childhood friend and the other prodigies living in the Wammy House, Crystal was someone who firmly believed in the existence of God. There were those who had sought out evidence of his existence through archeology and science. Some had found clues. Others found nothing.

But Crystal, despite being a person who normally needed all the clues, evidence, and answers, didn't need to have evidence to know the Red Sea had been parted by Moses, that the planet had once been flooded with water for forty days and nights, or that Jesus had existed, performing many miracles so the people of that time could believe in him and see him as the Messiah.

A hundred people could throw out evidence about how none of the events depicted in the Bible were possible, how the translators twisted God's message and other such things and it still wouldn't make a difference in Crystal's mind. Naturally she'd research their claims and such, but that's beside the point.

It was a simple question of faith.

Crystal had lost faith in so many areas of her life, thus believing in God gave her something to cling to. So she prayed, hoped, and lived her life as best she could. She adopted the mask of cheerfulness, wanting to extend the kind of love her father had given her and her family, as well as the love Jesus had shown during and after his short life. At one time, between her time in France and the United States, she had attempted attending church regularly, but because of circumstances and half of her family's involvement in mafia and drug dealings, she stopped going and instead studied relentlessly, reading her Bible from cover to cover and then re-reading and underlining her favorite passages.

Two specific passages became her inner mantra during particularly difficult days.

As she opened the door leading to the roof of the building, she thought of the first passage, Hebrews eleven verse one, "_Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen._"

When she steps out of the doorway, the sun's light touching her face while the breeze brushed through her locks of curly hair, she briefly thinks of the second passage. Ironically, it's within the same chapter as the first: the sixth verse.

"_But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek him._"

So she sought diligently, hoping for the day when sin and death would no longer exist.

Coming to the raised edge of the roof, she set her backpack down, opening it up to pull out a larger three-ring fuchsia pink binder before setting it down on the ledge. It closely resembled the one she used to carry when she lived at the orphanage. With a sad smile she opened up the binder, recalling a final passage: Hebrews ten verse thirty-five through thirty-nine.

"_Therefore do not cast away your confidence, which has great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that after you have done the will of God, you may receive the promise. __For in just a little while, He who is coming will come and will not tarry. The just shall live by faith; but if anyone draws back, my soul has no pleasure in him.__But we are not of those who draw back to perdition, but of those who believe to the saving of the soul._"

Crystal chuckled sardonically, thinking that those verses must have been in her head when she refused to take revenge against the man who drove her family to live on the run. With nimble fingers she forced open the three rings so she could withdraw the navy blue spiral notebook that served as her diary. She never worried about anyone finding it or reading it because she rotated the language she wrote in for every place she and her family moved to. When she lived in France she wrote in English. In England and the United States, she wrote in Japanese. Now, living in Japan, she writes the entries in French.

Tucked in the front sleeve of the binder were two small Bibles. The first was an Old Testament Bible while the other was of the New Testament. The Bible she normally studied wasn't one she could take with her from place to place, especially with the array of notes stuffed between nearly all the pages, so she had bought miniature versions for recreational reading when she was bored in class. Behind the miniature Bibles was another spiral notebook with completely blank pages for miscellaneous writing. In this notebook she would write little poems and songs, but mostly she drew. She wasn't an artist by any means, but she liked sketching people without them knowing. She drew during class, while she was in the park, and sometimes at home when her father was busy cooking, while her mother was grading homework, or when David was sleeping after a long day. Over the years, she's gotten a lot better at it.

Setting her diary aside, she closed the rings and flipped the loose leaf pages filled with notes from different classes, barely glancing at the elegant script as she passed by each page.

After turning all the pages she stared down at the empty back sleeve of the binder with a blank expression. To anyone else staring at it, it would look like an empty sleeve in the thoroughly stuffed binder, but Crystal knew what lied beneath the surface layers of pink plastic. Underneath the seemingly empty sleeve, she had hidden her darkest secret.

Most three-ring binders are made out of cardboard, surrounded by layers of synthetic leather and plastic. However, the back of this binder, and all the other binders she had held in the past consisted of a thinner layer of cardboard, accompanied by a thin layer of synthetic pink leather, and...

Another notebook, hidden underneath a thick layer of synthetic leather and plastic with a sleeve matching the inside of the binder's cover. The added sleeve hides the horizontal zipper near the bottom of the binder. When this zipper is opened, the notebook can be discreetly removed from the compartment.

As Crystal went about the process of removing said notebook from the compartment, she mentally wondered what someone would think if they were smart enough to see past the illusion she'd created using extra strips of synthetic leather and plastic. Most likely they would think she was crazy for going through such great lengths to hide another notebook that was probably filled with a long list of guys she was crushing on or something equally ridiculous.

Some of her female acquaintances may have commended her on the brilliance of such a maneuver if that had been the case.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

Crystal's sea-green eyes narrowed on the two English words scrawled across the front of the black notebook as she withdrew it. The knots that had plagued her stomach the previous night seemed to triple in intensity just from looking at them.

Death Note.

This notebook had been part of her life for as long as she could remember. In fact, her first memory is holding the notebook in her arms, wrapped in white cloth quickly stained crimson as she stumbled toward the Wammy House, covered in her own blood.

She was four years old.

The owner of the establishment called her a miracle child because with the brutal wounds inflicted upon her by her biological father, she should have died. Most adults would have died from the injuries she walked into the Wammy House with.

She remembered nothing of her biological father, nothing about the madman's brutality. It was like she had never experienced a single thing until that moment. She didn't even know her name.

She still doesn't know her real name, even to this day.

But she walked into the Wammy House holding that notebook, she remembers that much. Later, while her injuries were treated by the doctors on hand, she watched a monster take the notebook away.

The monster appeared to be sad for some reason. Before she passed out, she felt no fear.

A few days later, as she healed from her injuries, the monster returned to her side while she lay in bed. She watched him curiously, confused by his presence but unafraid still. His appearance, as grotesque as it was, didn't bother her for reasons she could never firmly grasp in her mind.

He told her his name, Ryuk, and set the notebook on her bedside table without saying much else except to tell her that he was a Shinigami. Though only four, Crystal knew the translation of the word. It literally meant "gods of death".

But she knew in her heart that there was only one God and for that reason she saw Ryuk more as an avatar of death, one of the angels of darkness. Before ever reading the passage for herself, she knew that God wasn't willing for any to perish, but to live eternally someday.

Death had come through disobedience, through doubt planted in the minds of humans through the sly tongue of the demon masquerading as a serpent. Staring at Ryuk in those moments, she viewed him in a similar way. He was sly, not to be trusted, and definitely up to no good, but she couldn't see him as a devil either. He was somewhere in the middle.

As she lay studying him, he stated that the notebook was hers to do with as she wished, but he warned her that if she used the notebook she would neither go to Heaven or Hell. For some reason though, he laughed and said, "Not that you're meant for either place anyway."

What was that supposed to mean?

Better yet, how is it that he could talk to her as if he had known her for years?

Ryuk went on to demonstrate the powers of the notebook by using his own to kill her biological father, stating the man was nearing the end of his life anyway. She learned of his death a few days later, when she was told she'd be staying at the Wammy House indefinitely. Oddly enough, it was the same day she met L and the day she attained her permanent alias, Crystal.

Ryuk came back a few times after that, inquiring if she was ever going to use the notebook. Each time she would sneak him an apple and tell him that she didn't intend to use it, but wanted to keep it. He would leave soon after, disappointment reflected in his strange crimson eyes.

In the thirteen years she had held the notebook, she had never once written a name in it. She'd been tempted to use it so many times, but instead of doing so, she stashed the notebook away and kept it safe so its tempting power wouldn't fall into the wrong hands. Whenever she felt like she was close to losing it, to giving into the effortless movement of her hand and a pen, pressing against the pages that warranted death, she would open her Bible instead, clinging to words of life with all her might.

Day after day she would catch glimpses of the news, glimpses of robberies, rapes, assaults, murders, and the list goes on and on. Crime was rampant in the streets at night, sometimes in broad daylight, and each victim would cry out for justice. Crystal wasn't always around to hear the screams, but she knew they were echoing in the wind, that her brother was one of the people causing those screams. All of it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Crystal had never had much of a sweet tooth, preferring the salty tastelessness of cashews, but lately she'd been paying visits to the ice cream parlor down the road from school to sugarcoat the painful atmosphere closing in on her. As a means of comfort over the last three weeks, she'd been chowing down on the Butter Pecan flavor, gaining a solid two pounds as a result.

She knew girls who would freak out about something so miniscule, but she wasn't one of them.

Setting the Death Note aside, she opened up her spiral notebook and turned to a blank page. After doing this she removed the black gel pen from inside her binder and started writing.

_Dear L,_

Each entry started out the same. Each entry was a letter to him. He would never see these letters, but it didn't matter. Being able to pretend that she was holding a long distance conversation with him was enough. She didn't feel as alone when she pretended.

_I don't like the way I feel today. The emotions swelling inside hinder my ability to think clearly and too many memories are flooding through my mind. The days that pass drag on endlessly as the filth in this world increases. Mom and David have fallen prey to the lusts of the eyes. It scares me to know what lengths they'll stoop to, David especially. _

The bell rings, but Crystal is barely aware of the shrill sound.

_His mind is twisted. He fails to see this and won't acknowledge that the drugs constantly in his system have turned him into a different person. I've spent sleepless nights worrying about what he's doing, what I can't stop him from doing. L, I wish I could be more like you. Somehow, though just as pained by the world's horrors as I was, you could always set aside those emotions and objectively solve the problem at hand. As it happens, I know how to stop David, but to do so means using the notebook and ending his life. After all, I know David won't change his mind, even though he's in love with me and wishes my happiness. He won't stop because of the high this lifestyle gives him and while he promised never to kill again with his hands, I know he's signed death certificates for his enemies and the addicts surrounding him and his world._

_He doesn't need to pull a trigger to kill anymore._

_I never needed a trigger, or a blade either, just a pen and the blank sheets of the Death Note. Still, the pages remain blank._

_But lately, I can feel the desire to fill the pages surfacing more and more. I can see the names and faces so clearly at night before I go to sleep that I've had to stop myself, unshed tears stinging the corners of my eyes as my hand shakes violently above the unmarked pages below._

_Having the notebook has always been a burden. It hurts to have all the power and yet be so powerless. I can't do anything and while my belief in God has kept me sane, kept me from succumbing to this awful temptation, I'm not sure how long I can last. My resolve is slipping and if something isn't done soon, I'll use the Death Note and become a demon, like Ryuk. No, I'd be worse than him because...I don't think I'd be able to stop writing down names._

_Nevertheless, I can't relinquish my possession of this notebook. Because I haven't written any names and have just carried it around with me my entire life...I'm afraid I'll lose all of my memories. Everything could disappear into nothingness. I won't remember my family, Mello, Matt, Near, Watari, or you..._

Sucking in a shaky breath she dropped the pen on the page, pausing in her writing for to peer at the Death Note sitting on the ledge before picking it up with her right hand. For a good few minutes, she stared at the cover, a million thoughts running through her head before she picked up the abandoned pen with her left hand. Since she was ambidextrous, she started writing once more...

_I've made a drastic decision. You'll never know this because you'll never read this letter or any of the letters I've written, but..._

...Not having the slightest clue...

_I've made the decision to find the other Death Notes in this world..._

...that the teacher from the class she was supposed to be in right now...

_...and destroy them, all at once. However, to do this, I'll..._

...was only a few steps away from being directly behind her.

"MS. MAKANO!"

Crystal, having been in very deep thought, screamed bloody murder upon hearing the loud shout behind her. In the same instant she lost her grip on the Death Note as she began to turn toward the angry teacher, accidentally knocking the rest of her things on her feet with her left arm.

The girl would have cried out in pain at the impact of the heavy binder, but instead her gaze snapped to the Death Note as it teetered on its spine before precariously falling off the edge of the building...and toward the ground far below.

For the first time in her entire life, Crystal's brain froze and her jaw dropped.

She'd never admit it out loud, but there was another reason,(aside from being adopted), she could never become L's successor.

When completely caught off guard, the girl is horrendously clumsy, to the point of detriment to all parties involved.

And while such developments were normally comical, even to her, Crystal could only stare toward the ground in disbelief at what her clumsiness had done this time.

It was no laughing matter on any level.

"What do you have to say for yourself this time?"

Crystal flinched, having completely forgotten about the teacher of the Math class she was supposed to be in.

Breathing out shakily she faced the woman behind her, revving the cheerful bravado up to full blast with a smile that was both deliriously cute and especially creepy. "Tanaka-sama, you scared me. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."

Ms. Tanaka placed her hands on her hips, not appreciating the sickly sweet tone in Crystal's voice. "If you were in my class, on time, then there'd be no need for this foolishness." Her cold grey eyes darted to Crystal's pink binder laying near her foot. "Pick up your things."

"Hai, hai," Crystal bellowed out, still in a slight stake of shock. She unceremoniously threw everything into her backpack without bothering to place her diary within the binder like normal. She was trying to regain her composure, but her heart was racing at speeds no heart should move in. Sweat was beginning to pour from her brow, the sheer terror of what could happen should anyone touch that notebook knocked the air out of her lungs.

By that point, Crystal knew one thing. She had to get away from Ms. Tanaka, go to the front of the building, and pick up that notebook NOW.

Once she'd zipped up her backpack she bowed her head toward Ms. Tanaka. "I'm really sorry. I didn't hear the bell ring. I was deep in thought and..." she trailed off, angrily thinking that there wasn't time to act like a goofy schoolgirl. "Um...I dropped something just now, so I need to..."

"Stop," Ms. Tanaka ordered, holding her index finger out toward her. "You've been a bother for the last time now young lady. Enough is enough." She grabbed Crystal's wrist. "We're going to the principal's office and I'm going to see to it that you're suspended this time! Not just for being late but for being a disruption to every class you're part of!"

For two seconds Crystal bitterly wished she were like Light Yagami, the kind of person who could act and sweet-talk their way out of anything, especially under the kind of pressure she was in now.

"Ms. Tanaka, that notebook has my homework for this period inside..."

"Speaking of," Ms. Tanaka interrupted, pulling Crystal along as if she were a crying toddler. "I'm going to prove that you've cheated on your homework and tests. You don't attend enough classes to be as smart as your test scores claim. I'm willing to bet all my hard-earned cash on the theory that you've found a way to cheat on every test, including stooping to stealing answer sheets from my desk."

Out of aggravation, Crystal dropped her bravado instantly, stating curtly, "That's a rather foolish theory to bet all your money on, don't you think? The probability of success on such a theory, when you have absolutely no proof whatsoever, is nonexistent." Smirking as she snatched her arm away she added, "Then again, if you want to hand me money, be my guest. I'll take it gratefully and laugh at your idiocy all the way home."

Leaving Ms. Tanaka to seethe in open-mouthed shock, Crystal ran to the door leading down the stairs while mentally making a note to interrogate the twenty-seven students that had been on the roof before the bell rang. Ten out of the twenty-seven were in the Math class she was supposed to be in now and one of them must have spilled the beans that she was still on the roof when class started. Ms. Tanaka, being the impatient woman she was, (she should consider marrying Mr. Tomoshi), got fed up (just like Mr. Tomoshi) and wanted to give her a hard time. Honestly, if the teachers just left her alone she'd gladly make a stronger effort to show up to classes on time, but good grief between her brother's attempts at pranking her, sleep deprivation, her struggles with wanting to use the Death Note yet knowing she shouldn't, and these crazy, flat-out bizarre, teachers...it's a wonder she makes it to school at all.

But in the end, none of those things mattered to her.

The Death Note was out of her possession. If someone else picked it up and decided to keep it...

She'd lose everything.

* * *

A/N: And that ends chapter three. This one was long and took me a good amount of time to write, but I think the result was well-worth it. So now, you basically have the history of Crystal's character in a nutshell...or do you? Stay tuned and review please. Epic penmanship is on the way!


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